


singing myself to sleep but you're still my favorite melody.

by adlibsinfalsetto



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, absolutely - Freeform, but its, i love lashton goodnight, i wanted to post it on halloween but lazy tbh, it's a prompt but it fits my otp tag, otp: it's like coming home, they're just mentions tho, this is also paced weirdly im so sorry im trash, this is more perspective i think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-02
Updated: 2014-11-02
Packaged: 2018-02-23 14:44:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2551385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adlibsinfalsetto/pseuds/adlibsinfalsetto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>prompt: 49) coming home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	singing myself to sleep but you're still my favorite melody.

**Author's Note:**

> hi guys so this is another prompt but it's probably gonna be shorter than the last one bc it's more perspective than anything i think??  
> im incapable of writing anything over 1k ive come to realize  
> ONE DAY I'LL POST THE REALLY LONG FIC  
> TODAY IS NOT THAT DAY  
> ok ill shut up i hope u enjoy

_“home doesn’t have to be who you once were,_  
 _or what you did or where you’re from. home just_  
 _might be the feeling you get when you’re around the_  
 _people you care about most. and if that’s the case —_  
 _you might already be home.”_

 

home was hard to define when it changed every night.  
hotels, buses, carparks, (that one pub he’d passed out in)  
—— those were just places,  
anonymous way stations lumped together in his frontal lobe.  
he knew where his true home was, knew sydney well enough  
to the point where he could probably replicate it from simple memory.  
and he yearned for it.  
luke ached for the constant he had  
clung to for most of his life.

 

he was disinclined to change, liked pattern, routine.  
however, his dreams, his life did not follow pattern nor routine.  
everything was thrust upon them — gigs, award shows, photoshoots.  
it was a price they had to pay, of course in order for them to fulfill the fantasies  
they’d been conjuring since childhood but luke undoubtedly struggled with it the most,  
especially in the beginning.  
touring around australia had been alright, everything held at least  
a touch of familiarity. eventually, they’d expand though.  
britain. spain. switzerland. countries with tongues he could not even fathom  
shaping their lyrics in perfect unison.  
he reveled in it, never once regretted leaving a life  
of familiarity for exploration of the unknown.  
no, he never regretted it — but he was overwhelmed by it.

 

those sort of feelings didn’t strike terribly often. it was quite easy to combat them,  
fend off the apprehensive emotions by absorbing himself  
in the music, in the experience. his band mates were handy remedies  
as well. they all acknowledged his fears, understood how  
sometimes he felt as if they were running an endless marathon; no breaks,  
no outs, just going and going and going.

he wasn’t sure where those sort of feelings derived from. maybe it  
was because he was the youngest that he felt them so strongly, because  
he hadn’t tied up the loose ends of his teenage years like the other  
three had. he just wasn’t sure. all he knew is that he felt  
them. when he was alone in his bunk, edging on exhaustion,  
the raw ache would engulf him, weave around his limbs  
and force him to relish in anguish rather than the ecstasy of a  
performance. 

luke would lie there. two, three hours at a time, dwelling  
on the fact that he was not in his own bed, that he didn’t even have  
the slightest grip on his bearings outside of the bus, that he hadn’t  
seen his own brothers in over five months. and he hated himself for  
it —- not being able to enjoy the moments offered by the twists of fate  
they’d encountered instead preoccupied by the mundane  
prospects of life back at home.  
so, he’d shut in on himself, let self-loathing taint his attitude until  
calum or michael would get onto him for being a dick.

 

ashton was the only one who didn’t reprimand him, choosing to draw out  
the root of the problem which he usually found to be luke’s  
homesickness. and he liked that about ashton, how he was  
so keenly attuned to luke’s moods. (not that michael and calum weren’t.  
they just didn’t quite know how to handle them.) actually, there  
were about a thousand things he liked —- or rather adored— about ashton  
if he was being honest.

he’d blamed his infatuations with the older boy on the hero complex  
he’d seemingly developed after the cinema incident and more importantly,  
he blamed ashton’s reciprocations on some kind of big brother variation.  
"that’s the only reason you pay so much attention to me, right? because i’m  
the baby?” luke has asked once after burrowing himself  
into the drummer’s side. that garnered him a chuckle and a look that pretty  
much screamed ‘are you blind?’ before he muttered something along the  
lines of “no, it’s because i like you, dumbass.” and well, that pretty much  
took them from luke and ashton to lukeandashton. slowly, of course since  
the utterance didn’t exactly confirm any sort of relationship status..  
but that was alright. luke rather liked the contrast between his two lives  
— the slow development of his relationship with ashton and  
rapid inflammation of their band across the world. he liked interlocking their  
fingers for brief moments behind backs, being the only one ashton would  
defer his ‘no cuddle’ policy for, the only one with permission to initiate  
hasty kisses in the back of vans.

luke liked to think he makes things easier. with  
ashton, the ache didn’t rattle him at night, the longing for  
a constant, a sense of familiarity didn’t keep him awake — perhaps  
because ashton was both of those things. he was unchanging. steady.  
he’s luke’s cure because when he was lying in ashton’s bunk, edging on  
exhaustion, the raw ache threatening to engulf him, ashton’s there  
to weave around his limbs, encase him in safety and love and bruise  
a different sort of ache into his skin.

 

so maybe home doesn’t have to be a place or a thing or something  
you’ve held onto for your whole life. maybe home was just a feeling, a bundle of  
warmth, love, happiness, safety.  
luke liked that definition because he felt the pleasant mélange of emotions when he listened to ashton’s steady heartbeat beneath his fingertips  
or when he looked behind him on stage and ashton’s there,  
a coalesce of adoration and reassurance entangled within jade irises.  
in those moments, he’s home. ashton is his home.

**Author's Note:**

> ok so this was lame im sorry  
> thanks for all the sweet reviews and kudos and stuff on my other ones though i really really appreciate it  
> you can find me @twinklashtons on tumblr AIGHT IM OUT  
> xoxo tay


End file.
